


Not Your Standard Tennessee Waltz

by lunabee34 (Lorraine)



Category: Farscape
Genre: Families of Choice, First Time, Multi, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:18:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorraine/pseuds/lunabee34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's not sure what he's gotten himself into. Every time he turns around, Chiana is panthering down the corridors and sliding against walls and the front of John's jeans ("Oh, <i>excuse</i> me, Crichton") and licking her lips after eating those old food cubes even Rigel wouldn't touch. John knows she's just messing with him, but all that sashaying around is really starting to screw with his head. Or maybe the way Aeryn keeps watching Chiana watching him, with this little smile like she's waiting for something to happen, is what sets John's teeth on edge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Your Standard Tennessee Waltz

John's not sure what he's gotten himself into. Every time he turns around, Chiana is panthering down the corridors and sliding against walls and the front of John's jeans ("Oh, _excuse_ me, Crichton") and licking her lips after eating those old food cubes even Rigel wouldn't touch. John knows she's just messing with him, but all that sashaying around is really starting to screw with his head. Or maybe the way Aeryn keeps watching Chiana watching him, with this little smile like she's waiting for something to happen, is what sets John's teeth on edge. 

Then Aeryn starts laughing at Chiana's jokes, honest to god laughing. Chiana looks as alarmed as John feels, but after awhile, they both calm down and start to accept this turn of events as normal. D'Argo continues to raise an eyebrow, but the big guy's always been twitchy. Rigel never notices anything without caloric or monetary value, but even he seems to be uneasy with whatever truce Aeryn seems to be brokering with Pip.

One night on a planet full of red dirt with a sky full of stars that stretches out to the edges of the world, Chiana offers to teach Aeryn how to dance. And Aeryn says yes.

"Wait, really?" Chiana says. She cocks her head to the side in that reptilian way that never fails to remind John that he is among aliens and peers sideways at Aeryn.

"Yes, really," Aeryn says and stands. The fire casts strange shadows on her collarbones and the angles of her face, the dark rope of hair hanging down her back. Chiana blinks and shifts her weight from one foot to another, rolling her hips as she does so. "Well?" Aeryn says.

Chiana straightens. "Right."

They can hear faint music from the village all the way out here, mostly percussion, a syncopated beat that John can feel in his bones. Chiana takes Aeryn's hands, presses them palm to palm with her own at shoulder height, and starts to sway back and forth. "We'll start off easy, see," she says.

John is suddenly very glad the three of them are alone.

Aeryn's expression is intent, focused, as Chiana guides their hands in a flowing pattern between their bodies. 

"This is the tricky part," Chiana says and hooks one leg around Aeryn's, tangling their hands over their heads. John doesn't think he could slip a credit card between them.

Aeryn says, "Oh, I think I understand this part just fine," and then she leans in and kisses Chiana while John's brain explodes.

At this point, John decides that Scorpy has discovered a new way to mentally torture him, but he vastly prefers this version of losing his marbles.

Chiana, never one to miss an opening, is kissing Aeryn back, her hands busy unraveling Aeryn's hair until it comes undone in loose waves around them.

"Guys," Crichton says because unfortunately he feels obligated, "you think maybe there's something funky in the water down here?"

"No," Chiana says.

"Shut up," Aeryn says.

They're both looking at him now, pressed cheek to cheek, hip to hip. Aeryn's hair flutters every time Chiana breathes. 

John says, "Alrighty then," and stretches his legs out towards the fire, crosses his arms behind his head, and prepares to enjoy the show. Chiana and Aeryn keep staring at him, firelight glinting off their wet lips, their predatory eyes. John feels a little like he should curl up and protect his soft underbelly, but he's determined to roll with whatever the two of them think they're doing. "No funky water on Tatooine. Check."

The music from the village suddenly spikes, a crescendo that John swears he can feel thrumming through his boot soles, and then a deep silence surrounds them, a silence broken only by the crackle of flames and John's blood rushing in his ears.

Aeryn and Chiana exchange a glance, and then Chiana says to John, "I could teach you how to dance, too. If you wanted."

John takes a second to think about D'Argo and how he might feel about John "dancing" with his ex, and he takes an even longer second to put to rest whatever he and Aeryn have been flirting with, just the two of them, since the sky spit him out into alien space. "Is that what the kids are calling it now?" John says, jumping to his feet. "I have a feeling I'm going to regret this in the morning."

And maybe he will. But right now John is definitely getting with the program.

Peeling Aeryn out of that leather outfit is exactly as satisfying as John has fantasized, especially since Chiana trails wet kisses over every inch of skin he uncovers. He’s almost content to watch the two of them together, but everytime he checks out, overwhelmed by the press of heated skin against his, of the wonderfully obscene sounds Chiana makes when Aeryn bites into her shoulder, they drag him back in and force him to be present in the moment.

So now John knows that Chiana’s navel tastes like salt and, strangely, celery. He knows that Aeryn likes to drag her nails down her lovers’ backs, and that she can come for days, over and over again until the merest touch makes her writhe beneath him. Chiana likes to talk during sex, no surprise there, but the things she says about what she wants and what she feels lay John bare, cut down to the heart of what draws him to her—her strength and, paradoxically, her vulnerability, her abandon, her hedonism, her joy. Aeryn doesn’t talk at all, but she smiles, so openly, so freely, that John feels something that has been tightly wound in him since he first laid eyes on her come unspooled.

Afterwards, tangled together with them both on the cold sand and panting, John looks up at a sky crowded with unfamiliar stars, points of light that might call him home if he only knew how to read them, if he could only find the magic that connects where he is to where he used to be. Then Chiana burrows her head under his arm, and Aeryn slings a leg over his hip, and John falls asleep with the suspicion that home and Earth don’t really mean the same thing to him anymore.


End file.
